


Secret Smile

by silvered_glass



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hangover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 10:33:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11919057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvered_glass/pseuds/silvered_glass
Summary: Louis' breath smells as bad as Nick's dogs, and Nick can't remember ever being more hungover, but he's also not sure that he wants the morning to end.A little Tomlinshaw drabble based on Sunday by Bloc Party.





	Secret Smile

**Author's Note:**

> So the wonderful [Writcraft](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft)/writsgrimmyblog [asked on tumblr for some Tomlinshaw song suggestions](https://writsgrimmyblog.tumblr.com/post/164635382425/ive-been-working-on-a-tomlinshaw-writing-playlist) and Sunday is Tomlinshaw all over and then I was thinking about it all and this happened. 
> 
> This little thing has to only live here, no breaking the wall.

↔ ↕ ↔

Nick wakes up with his dog breathing on his face.

Except it’s not his dog. It’s fucking Louis Tomlinson with breath as bad as Pig's is.

Which, well, in all of his day dreams and imaginings and fantasies about Louis Tomlinson, which have over the years been wide and very imaginative, Louis’ breath smelling like his dogs does has somehow never been a feature.

 

Nick rolls over onto his back and stares at his ceiling. A peaceful light baby blue, almost white. Aimee had said it’d help him feel rested and refreshed. This morning for some reason it seems to be moving a little. He wonders if his house has somehow set sail during in the night. Maybe that’s why Louis is here, he’s a pirate who’s come to plunder the S.S Grimmy. Nick lets out a little huff of an almost laugh, Pirate Louis _is_ a fantasy he’s had before.

“Shutsadup.”

Nick slides his eyes to his left, “What?” Surely he’s not getting told off for not even managing to laugh when he’s laid in his own bed is he?

“Shutup.” More forcefully, but very hoarse.

“I didn’t even speak.”

“Ugh, you're fucking speaking now. Not on the radio this morning, no need to be talking so early.” Louis Tomlinson attempts to raise his head, presumably to shoot Nick one of those icy stares Nick likes to observe him shooting at other radio interviewers. Not that he watches a lot of Louis Tomlinson’s other radio interviews, but it’s important for Nick to keep up with what his competition is doing in Stoke-On-Trent and coincidentally Louis had done some sort of regional radio station tour when he released his single.

Louis seems only to be able to lift his head for a moment though, and then it’s bouncing a little awkwardly back down onto the mattress. Nick turns on his side again and grabs the corner of the pillow that’s above Louis’ head.

“Lift up love,” he says softly and with a little moan Louis does. Nick drags the pillow underneath his face, “there we go,” he says mainly to himself, and flops back over on his back.

He lies still for a moment. His stomach feels a bit queasy, and he really needs to take a piss. He’ll have to get up. But there is a little cold thing touching the outside of his calf all of a sudden. Has to be the top of Louis’ feet. He must have his toes pointing down and the top of his feet slid right up against Nick’s calf. Nick turns his head and looks, there is one blue eye looking right at him. One blue eye, a nostril and the corner of that awful wicked mouth, the rest of Louis’ face is down in the pillow.

“Heavy night hey.” Nick says, heart in his mouth.

Louis reaches out a hand and sort of pats at Nick’s chest, his finger tips are cold and he’s just rubbing them gently back and forth where the hair is on Nick’s sternum.

“Going to make me a tea Nick?” He asks.

And Nick is.

 

Nick makes it to the bathroom, uses the main one, not his ensuite. He takes his piss and then he tries to clean his teeth, starts to dry retch while doing so, and has to wait and do it all again. When he finally makes it downstairs Emily must have taken the dogs out, as the house is blissfully silent. Nick makes tea, slowly, and a bit of toast and puts it all on a tray and goes back upstairs, slowly.

In his room Louis Tomlinson is propped up in bed, leaning back against every pillow Nick owns, his hair wet and mushed up and he’s staring at him almost impatiently, “I had a shower. You’ve got to give me clothes, mine stink and I’ve lost ‘m phone I think.”

“Ok.” Nick says and goes to put the tray down on his dresser.

“Can bring me my cuppa first.” Louis allows, and so Nick does.

 

They eat the toast, halfheartedly, crumbs going everywhere and it’s mostly silent apart from the crunching. Nick thinks about what clothes to give Louis. Something good so Nick could make an excuse to see him again and get it back from him, or something old that he won’t miss because likelihood of it all is that after Louis leaves he’s not going to see him again until an album comes out or some such, and he’s hardly going to return a borrowed t-shirt live on the Radio One Breakfast Show is he.

He realises Louis is looking at him a long while after he must have started, feels a flush creep over his cheeks.

“You were funny last night.” Louis says. Nick thinks he’s probably blushing properly now.

“I’m not saying it was my best fucking work but that’s a bit rude.”

“Huh?”

“Last night, with you, anyway I don’t even.." Nick sighs, he's getting proper flustered, "I mean how’d it start, what did we do?”

“I meant on stage, doing the speeches and that.” Louis says, _he_ looks a little pink now. “That other stuff was fine, I think,” he gives short laugh, “I was fucking ganted, don’t remember much.”

Nick swallows, “Oh, thanks.” He’s not sure what he’s saying thank you for; the being funny last night compliment or the rating of ‘fine’ in the bedroom. Both really, he guesses. Louis has a little bruise on his neck just above his collar bone and Nick thinks he probably put it there. Fucking hell, he would hook up with him and be so drunk he forgets most of it, all of it, wouldn’t he. It's depressing.

“Know what this toast needs? Bit of bacon, eggs and beans, full English.”

Nick can’t help himself, “Love a bit of sausage in the morning.” He mutters, almost under his breath.

And then the oddest thing happens, Louis Tomlinson raises one eyebrow and one side of his mouth in a little smirk and says, “Find me some bacon this morning, and maybe you can get one in the afternoon, Nicholas.”

Which. Which. Well. Which.

Fuck, which doesn’t sound like leaving. Sounds like a shit attempt at flirting if anything.

“There’s a caff down the street a bit, want to go?” Nick is quite proud with how very nonchalant he sounds.

“Got a hoodie or something, something a bit hidey?”

Nick does.

 

In the end he tells Louis to take whatever he likes clothes wise and goes to have a quick shower himself. He stands dripping in front of the mirror for a moment, blinks at his reflection and pokes the bags under his eyes, wonders if he could sneak some white eyeliner on without Louis noticing. He clatters down the stairs and finds Louis in a very old Nike hoodie and some track pants Nick thinks he’s never seen before. He looks quite cuddly.

“You look cuddly,” he says, then immediately, “sorry I think I’m still a bit pissed.”

Louis makes a little huff, sort of incredulous sounding but is nice and doesn't mock him, instead stands up from the couch.

 

While they walk to the café Nick offers him is phone in case he wants to call someone, find his own phone, but Louis waves him away. They sit with Louis facing in and Nick looking out the window. Nick orders for them both and then they talk a little bit about the night before, the award Olly Murs received, why Louis paid so much for the week on the yacht he won in the auction, what he’s actually going to do with it.

“Give it away?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, I like to go and stay on land anyway, 'm not a Victoria's Secret model and if I go to Spain 'n all I’m going to want to go dancing.”

“I love dancing.” Nick says absently, not thinking about about Louis in wings and nice pants. He should add that to the pirate related list maybe.

“Yeah.” Louis agrees.

And when Nick looks at him it’s that thing again, where it feels like Louis has already been looking for a little while, his eyes in it makes his stomach feel a bit butterflyish, Nick finds himself smiling a little.

Then Louis says, “You’ve got some brown sauce by your mouth you know.”

 

Nick pays, Louis staying at their little table, and when he turns around from the counter Louis gets up and heads to the door quickly. Nick catches him up there, reaches over Louis and holds the door open for him. Louis looks up at him and that makes Nick feel a certain kind of way as well, having Louis all there, under his arm for a moment. 

 

It’s a mild outside, almost warm it’s later in the day then Nick had realised. His stomach stays all nerves as he tries to think of what to say, how to not say goodbye, how to arrange to see Louis again.

“I want to go watch that.” Louis says suddenly with a tip of his head and Nick looks up, expects to see a movie poster or something on a bus going by but there’s nothing.

“See?” `

Louis knocks him with his shoulder, “Them ones, playing footie.”

Nick stops, there’s a match over in the park, kid’s games. He can see the white with blue sash on one teams uniform. “Hampstead.” He says.

Louis smiles, unexpectedly happy, “How’d you know that?”

“No idea,” Nick grins back, “must’ve seen a local paper.”

 

Louis makes them stop at a coffee shop and get two more take away cups of tea before they cross into the park. And they have to sit down a fair distance away as there are a lot of younger people around, more chance of them spotting one of them. Of them spotting Louis.

They find a good bench though and right away Louis is next to him, right next to him. It’s easy it is, to lift his arm up along the back of the bench and Louis just gets in there, not pausing in his analysis of the match, no stop in his commentary about whether the girl with the black curls was offside when she took that pass. He just gets up against Nick and it’s really good.

Louis’ hands are flighty little things, and it’s almost a relief when he pulls out a cigarette and starts smoking. They still then, his hands, they have a purpose. He doesn’t move away while he smokes, and Nick doesn’t ask him to. ANd after he flicks the butt of the cigarette away Louis settles in a little more, he’s got his head just sort of where Nick’s shoulder meets his chest and Nick’s glad it’s his right side because his heart is beating far too fast.

“You really thought I was funny then?”

“You were alright.” He can hear in his voice that Louis is smiling. It's silent for a bit. The hoodie over Louis' head is half falling off and his hair is light and moves with the breeze, tickles his chin a little.

“Do you,” Nick takes a breath, “do you remember?”

“Hmm, yeah, sort of. I don’t know, I came back to my table and you’d sat in my seat so I just sat on you.”

“Ohhh.” And Nick remembers it then.

 

The sudden way Louis was just _in_ his lap, a little unsteady when he first sat himself down so Nick had put a hand on his side, thumb grasping the softness of his hip and fingers curving around to Louis' front while Nick had lent his other arm on the table, boxing Louis in. But he hadn’t moved. He’d drunk his whole beer, twisted so he was half facing towards him and then gone as far as to throw his own arm over Nick’s shoulder.

He’d said things loudly like 'Me and Grimmy here, we think you’re a right twat then Harry,' which hadn’t been true. Nick rarely thinks Harry is a twat, but Louis had said ‘we’ and the ‘we’ he meant was Nick and him and so Nick had stayed silent, his fingers still on Louis’ waist, tracing gentle circles with his finger tips on Louis’ stomach.

The table had seemed to clear out very quickly. All of a sudden it was just Nick and Louis and on the other side talking amongst themselves some men he thinks were from some label. People were still there, the room was full and loud, just the table was empty.

And that’s when Louis had twisted properly and kissed him. He’d done it so smoothly it was like he’d thought he was sitting on someone else’s lap, someone he kissed regularly, someone he had a pre-existing right to kiss. And he’d kept doing it, even as Nick had clumsily dropped the glass he was holding in his other hand down on the empty chair beside him and grabbed at Louis’ shoulder, his left-hand scrabbling over his stomach, warm and soft, making its way to grab onto the other side of Louis’ waist.

He’d kissed him properly, pulling back a little and taking a sharp breath, and before Nick could open his eyes Louis’ mouth had been on his again, a little slick, a little demanding. He was a wonderful proper weight on Nick’s lap, pressing his body up against him, Louis’ chest warm and solid against Nick’s own. Nick had pulled away, nosed at the scruff on Louis’ jaw and skimmed his teeth there. Louis had tipped his neck back, let him kiss down his throat a little at the same time as grasping at his shoulder. Gripping a little too hard, and twisting his whole body as if he was going to proper climb over him. And shit, Nick had gone from being taken aback to semi-hard in a matter of moments.

When Louis had pulled away a second time Nick had managed to blink up at him. The room was a bit dark, there was a flash of blue light from the dance floor and Louis’s lips were still pink and a little wet.

“We should go to yours,” he’d announced.

Nick had agreed.

 

It hadn’t worked. They’d been stopped, and they’d drunk more, Nick had felt exuberant, as if he was fucking celebrating something, but at the same time worried, any moment he could turn around and Louis might have gone, the chance lost. They’d danced, in groups near each other, but not together. He'd had stupid wonderful conversations, once more separately, not with Louis, but all the time being aware of each other. A strange prickle at the back of Nick’s neck, a lot of odd too-long looks over the head of whoever he was talking with, until finally Nick had just gone up and thrown an arm around Louis said loudly, 'Off for a smoke we are.' And just started to walk to the door.

 

He sighs, deep and long, “We didn’t _do_ anything did we?”

“Nah. Well. We kissed.” Louis reaches across and pushes his balled-up fist gently against Nick’s thigh, “It was nice.”

“It was fine. It was nice.” Nick mimics, unimpressed, only half joking.

“It _was_ nice, ‘wanna do it again I think.”

Oh.

“Oh.” He says out loud. Nick smiles, lifts his hand off the back of the bench and squeezes Louis’ shoulder.

 

There’s the noise of a whistle then and maybe that is time on the match, all the white-with-blue-sash jersey clad kids running to the sidelines.

 

“It’s good this.” Louis says.

“Yeah, good park, I bring the dogs here..”

“Not the park, you dick, this.” And Louis butts at his chest with his head, then burrows a little in again, his shoulder a little pointy against Nick's ribs.

And it is, good. Nice.

Nick takes a sip of his tea. It’s gone cold.

But it is nice.

↔ ↕ ↔


End file.
